


Safe With Me

by Threshie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Background Case, Buddy Breathing, Cover Art, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean Breathes For Sam, Except Dean Can Breathe Underwater, Eye Contact, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Mouth-to-Mouth, Nonverbal Communication, Podfic Welcome, Potions, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Has Puppy Dog Eyes, Sharing a Bed, Takes place in early seasons because they're talking about fighting the apocalypse, Touchy-Feely, Trust, Underwater, Undressing, Wet Clothing, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 04:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16779922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie/pseuds/Threshie
Summary: A case goes awry, and Sam and Dean are trapped in a rapidly-flooding cave that only one of them took a water breathing potion to explore. Dean must breathe for them both as they try to find a way out.





	Safe With Me

  
Dean checked his watch again, just to be sure. 

“You said it took half an hour to kick in, right?” He wasn’t so sure about this water breathing potion business. Better him than Sam taking it, though.

“Thirty minutes exactly,” Sam assured him, not even looking up from the symbols glowing softly on the stone door. He had a book balanced open on one hand, and was comparing the marks on the rock to the ones on the pages, frowning in concentration. 

Luckily there weren’t supposed to be any symbols in the submerged part of the cave, at least that’s what the lore said. This was a pretty open and shut case — Dean would swim in, retrieve this magic pearl they’d read about, and they’d have more firepower in fighting the apocalypse. The pearl was supposed to contain the power of a star. Frankly, Dean would believe that when he saw it.

“Got it!” Sam’s triumphant words snapped Dean back to the present. His brother was tracing certain symbols on the door with his fingertip, skipping over a few. At the very last one, he just plain covered it with his palm. 

“That’s it?” Dean raised an eyebrow at the process. Before he could comment further, though, the stone rumbled and split in two. The doors scraped along their paths, sinking into the walls on either side. 

Dean groaned.

“Sure, there’s no symbols inside,” he said dryly, gesturing to the practically-identical door about six feet further into the cave from the first one. 

Sam blinked at the door, glancing at Dean and back again. 

“Well, uh, maybe it’s like a storm door,” he suggested sheepishly, stepping through the first doorway and up to the next obstacle. 

Dean followed, stepping carefully over the smooth stone floor with his bare feet. They’d planned for him to swim, so he’d taken off his shoes and any clothes except his jeans and gray T-shirt. Sam was in a typically Sammy outfit — jeans, boots, V-neck tee, royal blue plaid flannel. In a show of solidarity with Dean, who had been grumbling about the cold stone floor on his feet at that time, he’d left his orange jacket outside with the pile of his older brother’s clothes. 

Now that Sam had gotten the hang of the way the door symbol locks worked, he cracked the code for the second one in minutes. The scrape of stone sounded just like before, the door splitting in the middle to sink into the walls. As it did, though, the room dimmed. 

“Sam, uh…” Dean turned just in time to see the first set of doors slam closed the very moment the second set finished opening.

“The lore didn’t mention this,” Sam replied worriedly, in the dark. His voice echoed in the small closed stone space like they were inside a tin can.

“Great,” Dean told him sarcastically, holding up his hands even though neither of them could see them.

There was a sound besides their voices now, though. Trickling.

Dean jumped slightly as strangely mild, almost warm water washed over his toes. 

“Dean, I-I think we translated wrong,” Sam told him uneasily. “Maybe the cave’s not flooded — maybe it floods once you go in.” 

“Even better,” Dean snapped, turning and giving the door-wall they’d come in a smack. His palm just smarted for his effort, and he hissed and rubbed at it.

The water was already up to their ankles now, and heading for their knees fast.

“Well, uh, we kind of expected this,” Sam reasoned. Dean heard the shuffle of paper, and concluded he was still holding onto his damned book in the midst of all of this. His badly translated book. “You took the water breathing potion, so you’re gonna be okay, Dean.”

“Yeah, well how about you?” Dean demanded, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna be just fine while you drown two feet away, so let’s get the door open, quick.” 

“There’s no symbols inside the room,” Sam replied quietly. “They’d glow.” 

Glowing…light. Yeah, light would be a good start, Dean though, feeling around in his pockets. They’d planned for him to swim through an underwater cave, so at least they weren’t completely unprepared.

His hand splashed across the surface of the rising water when he reached into his pocket. Cringing at that and the little innocuous splashes it made, Dean lifted the glow stick higher and snapped it in half hard. The loud click echoed in the tiny space, and damn did it feel even tinier when the room and Sam and the surface of the waist-deep water were lit with an eerie blue glow. 

Sam was standing about a foot away from him, the book hugged to his chest. He instantly started to scan the room for any sign of symbols on the walls, even non-glowing ones.

“Water’s rising fast,” Dean said, tucking the glow stick into his brother’s pocket. He pulled out a second and snapped it, holding it high. His pockets were submerged by now, and the stick splashed droplets onto the water, sending glowy ripples over the entire surface. Water breathing potion or no, he was starting to get a little panicky being stuck in this teeny tiny room with water nearly up to his chest now. 

And Sam couldn’t breathe underwater. They’d never planned for Sam to be in the damned cave, because of course it was dangerous so Dean had volunteered himself. He’d never planned to be here, perfectly safe, while his brother could die in minutes. God damn it.

“Okay,” Sam said, trying not to sound as nervous as he obviously was about the chest-height water. He was hoisting his poor doomed book up above his head, trying to keep it dry while he ran his fingers over the wall the way they’d come. “I-I think there are symbols here, but they’re not lit up for some reason. Maybe, um, maybe we need to go further into the cave.”

Dean held his glow stick up and looked through the open second set of doors. Going further into this death trap hadn’t even occurred to him. It didn’t look like it would help, anyway — the smooth stone turned into a rounded tunnel that went steeply down. It was very dark and ominous-looking, and, oh yeah, flooded like this room was about to be.

“We can’t, it’s all underwater from here. The damned lore was right about that bit,” he grumbled, trying to sound gruff to cover his fear. Sam was about to drown. The water was up to Dean’s chin, and his brother was taller, but not THAT much taller. 

“G…go without me,” Sam said, chin held high to keep the water away as long as he could. He was a little breathless, and Dean didn’t blame him — the water wasn’t cold, but it pressed on their chests, and the damned door apparently had just enough space between the sliding pieces for all of the air in the room to escape. 

“What? No!” Dean sputtered, spitting out some water that had splashed into his mouth. He couldn’t keep his face above water for long, but he couldn’t leave Sam. He couldn’t. 

Sam finally let the book sink heavily to the floor, pages unfurling and fanning out in the water as it fell. He braced a hand on the wall and leaned his head back, huffing for a few more breaths. 

“D-Dean, if…you take the p-pearl, maybe it’ll activate the d-door symbols,” he said shakily. “You can breathe this, you can do it.”

No, Dean thought, he couldn’t. Sam was the nerdy one who had read up on all of the lore here — and hell if Dean left him here to drown.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said, now treading water just to keep his head in the last few inches of air near the roof. Sam looked at him miserably, breathing through his nose with his mouth underwater, but nodded when Dean assured him, “I’m not gonna leave you, Sammy. Hold your breath, I’m gonna try something.”

There was the very strong instinct to take a deep breath before he ducked his head under the surface, but he didn’t. Sam said the water breathing potion would work, and Dean trusted his brother with his life. 

That, and if it didn’t work they were both dead anyway.

Dean kept his eyes open under the water, and the little cave room was a surreal sight. Sam’s book lay on the floor near his feet, pages drifting in the water like living things. Sam himself was mostly under, too, his flannel shirt’s plaid shining neon-bright in the glow stick’s blue chemical light. The shirt drifted in the water, along with the tips of his hair. 

_Please work,_ Dean begged the potion, and inhaled. 

It should have hurt. He’d inhaled a lungful of water or two over the years of hunting lake monsters and the like, and this…felt nothing like that. The water was still strangely, soothingly warm, and it put up a little resistance going down his throat, but his lungs made no protest at all. He wasn’t drowning, or smothering, or even short of breath. The potion was amazing — he could breathe completely comfortably underwater.

Unlike Sam, he reminded himself, swimming toward his brother. 

The cave was completely flooded by now, and Sam was half-standing, half-floating there in the corner, holding his breath and looking at Dean like he’d never see him again. He probably thought that he wouldn’t the second that lungful of air ran out. 

Dean swam right up to him, caught his hand, squeezed it tight. _It’s okay, Sammy,_ he thought. _I won’t leave you._ His brother was starting to panic a little, eyes flicking to the roof like there was supposed to still be air there, like there needed to be.

Catching his face, cradling it in both hands, Dean looked him in the eyes. _Trust me,_ he begged silently, and leaned in to cover Sam’s mouth with his own.

Sam went stiff for a second, then grabbed at his shoulders, squeezing tight. He hadn’t opened his mouth, was trying desperately to hold onto the breath he was holding. Dean stroked his cheeks with his thumbs, pressing his lips harder against Sam’s. 

_Trust me, Sammy._

Sam closed his eyes, clinging to his brother’s shoulders. He exhaled through his nose, bubbles quickly streaming up and away to nothingness, and he opened his mouth for Dean. 

Dean drew the water in like air through his own nose, and he breathed it into Sam. It felt like liquid still — God, was the potion the only reason he could breathe it? Was he just helping Sam drown faster?

His brother wasn’t choking and seizing like he would have if he were drowning, though. His hold on Dean’s shoulders was a desperate, clinging one, and he kept their mouths pressed to one another. Against Dean’s own, his chest rose and fell in increasingly slower, calmer breaths. 

Dean would have laughed if he wasn’t busy being Sam’s personal air tank. This was insane — the potion must have converted inhaled water into some oxygen-rich breathable liquid the moment it went into his lungs. That was the only possible explanation for Sam breathing liquid as easily as Dean was doing right now.

Dean opened his eyes and found Sam looking at him. It was that puppy-eyed look he got when he was either pleading or very touched. Both were reasonable in this situation, Dean thought. 

They were perfectly safe and alive as long as they stayed mouth to mouth…at least until the potion ran out. Dean patted Sam’s cheek, trying to communicate with his eyes that he needed to pull away, that Sam should hold his…well, liquid breath. 

His brother seemed to understand. He nodded the tiniest bit, patting Dean’s shoulder. Dean exhaled one more time, giving him a big breath to hold onto, and gently pulled away from his mouth. 

Sam carefully held his breath, watching as Dean swam down and plucked the book off of the stone floor. Popping back up beside Sam, he pointed down the dark tunnel that led further into the cave.

Sam was right about the best way to get the door to open — completing the quest for this magic pearl that the lore talked about would probably do it. Now that Dean didn’t have to leave Sam, that plan sounded sane enough.

Nodding, Sam took the book from Dean. Very deliberately, he let it drop in the corner, so they didn’t have to carry it. Then he pushed off from the wall, swimming toward the tunnel. 

How long had it been since Dean gave him a breath? The older brother pushed off and swam after him, getting enough momentum to drift past and catch onto his shoulder. Sam turned his head to look, hair drifting out beside him in the blue-lit water. Dean went with the motion of the direction he’d been swimming, pulling Sam’s shoulder for him to follow. They drifted about a foot, and Dean’s back slowly hit the wall the same moment Sam pressed their lips together.

The sound of the water on the cave walls was surreal and otherworldly, and so was this — drifting in the darkness, clinging to Sam and breathing life into him. Dean didn’t close his eyes this time, and neither did his brother — they focused on each other. Dean brought a hand up to cradle his brother’s face, trying to reassure him without words. 

_It’s okay, Sammy. I’m here, you’re safe as long as I’m here._

They moved along down the tunnel this way, stopping every fifteen or twenty feet to press their lips together again and hold onto each other. They built up a rapport, even more than they usually had with just a look or comment. Even without being able to speak, Dean understood perfectly. When Sam was ready, he tapped Dean’s shoulder to signal it. When Dean wanted to leave one of the glow sticks along the path to light the way back, he only needed to hold it up for Sam to understand.

After what felt like hours, the mouth of the tunnel widened, and it began to tilt upward again. The blue light of the two glow sticks they’d left along the way looked very distant by the time they emerged into a round room about thirty feet in diameter.

It was completely underwater, too. Dean had been hoping for air so poor Sam could have a break from all of this. His brother, though, completely trusted by now that Dean wouldn’t leave him. Ignoring the little bubble-like glass orb in the center of the room with the pearl glimmering inside, he instead pushed Dean gently up against the wall and covered his brother’s mouth with his.

Dean wrapped an arm around his waist to keep from drifting, breathing slow and smooth for him. Sam ran a hand slowly over Dean’s hair, and there was a smile in his eyes even if his mouth couldn’t show it right now. 

Dean touched his face as he usually did, gazing back at him. They wouldn’t have been able to come this far unless they trusted each other like this. Thinking of how close Sam had come to drowning made his chest hurt, so he tried to push that aside for now. Sam was okay, because Dean was with him. 

Sam tapped his shoulder — the signal that he was ready to hold his breath. Dean looked at him as he pushed a slow breath into his brother’s mouth, and Sam’s fingertips brushed over his cheek. There was…something going on here besides just surviving. Something Dean was both thrilled and afraid of, but there was no hiding it from Sam after this. 

They needed to talk, once talking was an option again. 

Taking the pearl was an anticlimactic affair after the struggle to get here. Dean scooped the glass orb up, pearl suspended perfectly in the center, and Sam shrugged out of his flannel shirt, tying it around the thing. It was neatly wrapped up with the sleeves for handles; Sam held onto them while Dean held onto him and gave him enough breath to start back toward the tunnel. 

The trip back felt like some kind of surreal dream — Sam’s hands were full holding the wrapped pearl, so Dean would catch him by the shoulder from time to time, swoop in with a hand cradling his face, and just cover Sam’s mouth with his. Sam was completely relaxed in his grip, trusting that Dean wouldn’t fail him even once. And Dean didn’t.

Sam’s hunch, it turned out, was right. The symbols on the inside of the exit door were glowing brightly when they arrived back to the tiny entrance room. Dean held Sam just beneath them and they took a few extra minutes this time, breathing together slowly and preparing mentally for the task at hand. Sam’s book might be too soggy to read by now. He might have to do this from memory.

Dean had faith that he could do it, but he couldn’t say so right now. Instead, as he drew back from Sam, he smiled and squeezed one of his hands. For the first time since this crazy underwater endeavor started, Sam smiled back. 

He retrieved the book and flipped calmly through the pages while Dean held the wrapped pearl and watched. Behind them, the tunnel was still lit softly blue from the glow sticks. 

As he’d done at the mouth of the cave, Sam traced certain symbols with his fingertips, quickly and easily like he knew exactly what to do. He covered the last symbol with his hand, and turned to look at Dean as the water reverberated around them in a way they felt more than heard from the water in their ears. 

Dean glanced up, watched a sliver of air open at the top of the cave as the water gushed out of the opening doors. It was moving fast, but he pushed forward and pressed his lips to Sam’s one more time, giving him a breath so he didn’t have to worry about how fast they got out. Sam held onto Dean’s shoulders and closed his eyes, relaxed as he’d been every time before on the trip back. The air felt cold as the water fell away from them, and the stone door ground and scraped as it slowly opened all the way. Behind Dean, the door to the tunnel clunked heavily shut. 

Sam drew back from Dean, looking around them at the wet rock room. They were both sopping wet, hair and clothes streaming water onto the floor. Sam grabbed the front of Dean’s T-shirt and stepped backward out of the first set of doors, hauling his brother along with him.

As soon as they were clear of the doors and in the open cave mouth, Sam turned and immediately sat on the ground, choking and sputtering up a lungful of water. Dean must have still been operating on the oxygen from the water in his lungs, because he didn’t feel any desperate need to breathe yet as he sat the pearl carefully on the floor, kneeling by Sam and rubbing his back. 

Now he did need to breathe, and he was out of water to inhale, so…hopefully the potion made the switch for him. He’d been able to breathe air until going into the water, Dean told himself as he hung his head and let the water drain from his lungs. He should be able to just switch back to air, right? It should be fine.

Something felt off, though. The water was actually burning a little as he coughed up the last of it. Motes of light hit Dean’s vision as he flopped over onto his side on the stone ground, choking on both the air and the last few drops of water. 

It burned, it all burned. His lungs were screaming for air, and he was regretting leaving the water. Was he going to smother after all of this?

“D-Dean!” Sam’s voice sounded hoarse from coughing. Dean could feel big hands on him, sliding under his shoulders, moving him to lay with his head on Sam’s lap. All the while, Dean was wheezing, tears streaming from his eyes at the sting in his chest. The air seemed to give him just enough oxygen not to smother, but it hurt like a bitch. 

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam soothed, a hand in his hair, the other resting gently over his chest. “Don’t be scared, the potion’s just wearing off. Try to relax, I’ve got you.”

As much as Dean appreciated the lifesaving the potion had just done for them, he was currently regretting ever taking it, too. The damned pearl wasn’t worth almost losing Sam over, and it was tough to justify near-smothering when you were in the middle of the experience. His brain was halfway in some animal panic about dying, his vision was blurry from the water and tears, and the only good thing he had to cling to was Sam.

“Deep breaths,” Sam was coaxing, petting his wet hair away from his face. He rested a hand on Dean’s cheek the same way Dean had been doing for him underwater, back when Sam thought he might be the one dying. Sam stroked his brother’s cheek with his thumb, looking down at him with a sympathetic wince now and then, but mostly with admiration. 

“You got this, Dean. You just breathed water for two for a couple hours, breathing air is nothing,” he said, keeping his eyes locked with Dean’s. The older brother wheezed, sucking in a deeper breath. 

“T…told you,” Dean rasped, “Nothing bad’s gonna h-happen to you…while I’m h-here.” 

Sam got that puppy-eyed look again, his brows furrowing like he might cry. A bit choked, he said, “Thanks for not leaving me, Dean.”

Dean looked up at him and tried to steady out his breathing. His chest was hurting less with each breath, thank God, and he almost felt well enough to sit up, but Sam’s hands in his hair and on his cheek were comforting. 

“I’d never leave you,” he swore.

Sam nodded a little. Then he bowed his head and pressed his lips to Dean’s forehead — a kiss, a very gentle one.

“I know.”

Dean stared up at him and wondered what exactly he knew. How much he knew. The potion had worn off by now, and he was able to breathe the air smoothly again, but he wasn’t in any hurry to move away from Sam’s soothing and touching.

“Sammy,” he said, sighing and slowly starting to sit up anyway. “…We should take the friggin’ pearl and go find a motel. I don’t know about you, but hours of swimming just about killed me off. I could sleep for a day or two.”

Sam sat back and took hold of Dean’s shoulders, guiding him and helping him sit up. 

“Me too,” he murmured, coughing slightly again. “W-we’ve got to keep an eye on each other, okay? Inhaling water’s dangerous, even if you cough it up.”

“Pneumonia?” Dean asked wearily, running a hand through his wet hair and straightening the hem of his drenched T-shirt.

“Secondary drowning,” Sam replied uneasily. Dean cringed. Yeah, that sounded pretty nasty, whatever it was. Not-drowning would be ideal. 

It took them almost an hour to drive to the nearest motel. This pearl cave was along a sea cliff face right near the top, and it had taken at least half an hour of walking to get there. The travel plus the hours of swimming and dancing with death a breath or two away meant that both brothers were truly exhausted by the time they got to the motel.

The only room left had one double bed, and they couldn’t have cared less. Dean dragged the pearl and his backpack into the room and sat them beside the TV. Sam hauled his waterlogged book and his backpack in and didn’t even make it that far, dropping them just inside the door.

Slamming said door shut so it would lock, he started toward the bed, clearly ready to flop in it face-first. Dean stuck both hands out and pushed at his chest, trying to speak and coughing a little instead. When Sam stopped and looked at him worriedly (and wearily), Dean cleared his throat and tried again.

“Let’s get out of these clothes, or we’ll get the bed all wet,” he said, hoping his tone conveyed just how much he’d like to collapse and sleep, too. 

Sam looked at him for a moment, blinking slowly. Without comment, he grabbed the hem of Dean’s T-shirt and helped pull it off over his head. 

“Okie dokie,” Dean said, laughing nervously. Maybe they really HAD communicated a whole lot without words back in that cave, but he still thought they should talk before doing anything about…about it. Them. Whatever this was. 

“You just kept me alive, Dean,” Sam told him, his eyes shining in that sad puppy dog way Dean couldn’t refuse. He looked down at his brother’s belt and started to unbuckle it. “I-if you can breathe for me, I can help you. I want to.” 

“Whoa, Sammy, you don’t have to do anything,” Dean said, heart thumping loudly in his chest. He was pretty sure he was blushing to the tips of his ears. Sam seemed to notice, because he paused what he was doing and blinked in surprise.

“I’m just helping you get the wet clothes off, Dean,” he said. Apparently it was necessary to reassure Dean that nothing else was happening here. Dean wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or even more flustered, since his brother obviously could tell what he’d been thinking about instead.

“Sam…” Dean bit his lip, reaching and pulling Sam’s shirt off for him as well. Sam went along with the motion, shrugging it off of his arms before unzipping Dean’s jeans. Gulp. 

“Yeah, I know. We need to talk,” Sam said, as if Dean had told him so earlier. As if that hadn’t just been a thought of Dean’s he’d been sure was well hidden from his brother in the midst of their life and death situation. The rapport was a little scary sometimes. 

Dean swallowed hard and took a step back before pulling down his damp jeans. Sam ducked his head at that, cheeks burning. He cleared his throat and unbuckled his belt, then shimmied out of his pants as well. Dean tried very hard not to look at him too closely as Sam turned and knelt to pull dry underwear and a clean T-shirt from his backpack. 

Dean hastily did the same, and retreated into the bathroom to change before Sam could turn back around. He wasn’t sure what to do. It sure as hell seemed like his brother was on the same wavelength. In every way possible. If he was wrong, though, Sam was bound to be disgusted.

Looking at himself in the mirror, his hair a damp spiky mess, green eyes weary and worn, he shook his head. Who the hell was he kidding? He’d just spent hours mouth to mouth with his brother, and Sam’s reaction to them stripping off clothes was to BLUSH. It was weird, and unexpected, but Sammy didn’t seem any less interested than he was. 

Once he’d changed into the only item he’d grabbed in his hasty retreat — dry, clean boxer shorts — Dean resisted the urge to peek out of the bathroom. Instead, he threw the door open and stepped out into the room like this was any old motel, and any old case. 

Sam was seated on the foot of the bed, long legs in front of him, head leaned in both hands. Dean blinked and left the bathroom door standing open forgotten, moving to sit by his brother’s side.

“Sammy?” He asked gently, placing a hand on Sam’s back. The younger brother sat up slowly and looked at him, his eyes full of questions. And exhaustion, definitely still plenty of that.

“Dean,” he began, taking a deep breath. “I-I know we need to talk, but I don’t think either of us has the brain power right now, and there’s only one bed, so…”

Dean nodded, smiling and starting to stand up. 

“I’ve got a sleeping bag with me, I can just—”

Sam grabbed his hand, and Dean cut himself off, blinking.

“Please, Dean, just…i-it’s not a big deal if we just share the bed. If you don’t mind,” Sam added, looking up at him with those sad puppy eyes. Jesus, how did he fit so much pleading into a single glance?

Dean glanced at the bed, then back to his brother and nodded, bringing a hand to cradle his jaw. He smiled. 

“Right, I promised I wouldn’t leave you.”

Sam smiled, too, and Dean was pretty sure there was some hopefulness hidden among all of that shiny-eyed exhaustion. They crawled into the bed after that, an unceremonious clamber of twisted blankets and tangled limbs. Sam laid on his back, wrapping an arm around his brother, and Dean was turned to hug around his neck with both arms, half-draped over his chest. 

Dean was pretty sure his back was going to kill him tomorrow, but for the moment, cheek pressed to the chest of Sam’s soft T-shirt, air in his lungs and his brother in his arms, he had never felt more comfortable or safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thank you for reading my fic! This is the longest one-shot I've written in years, and hopefully that isn't annoying. I really enjoyed both writing this story and painting the cover art, and I hope you enjoyed them. To see more of my art, check out Threshasketch on Tumblr. As for AO3, comments and kudos make my day! ♥


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